


Not Quite Trailer Trash

by tawg



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Comment Fic, Community: spn-angelkink, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:44:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tawg/pseuds/tawg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during 6x15, The French Mistake. Misha doesn't die in an alleyway, has a perplexing conversation with an angel who also isn't dead, and then is so busy having "back from the dead" sex that he completely forgets to update his twitter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Quite Trailer Trash

Misha woke up in his trailer. It was quite disorienting, given that his last memory was of bleeding out in an alleyway. He looked down at his favourite blue jumper. It had blood all down the front. It was still wet, and he was pretty sure that the blood was both real, and his. He saw a movement out of the corner of his eye, and jerked upright. It was the craft services guy from the set, sitting on the coffee table with his hands clasped between his knees, watching Misha intently.

“Careful,” he said. “I’m not sure if I put the right amount of blood back in you.”

Misha raised a hand to his neck, and then tore his jumper off to check his forearms. He couldn’t see any sign of blood-transfusing needles having been in his skin, and he was lacking any indication of having been cut open. “What... what happened.”

“You died,” Mister Craft Services told him. He reached into his ever-present basket of junk food, and pulled out a chocolate bar. “And then you got better.”

Misha stared at the guy (he usually made it a point to learn everyone’s name, but this guy always slipped out of his memory) as he tore the wrapper off and took a large bite. “Who are you?” he asked.

Craft Services looked at Misha, and smirked. And behind him shadows moved across the wall and formed rich, dark shapes that flexed and stretched, and kind of scared the crap out of Misha. “Do you _really_ need to ask?”

Misha swallowed as the shadows flexed once more and then folded down into nothing. “You’re a fictional character.”

“Nope.”

“You’re dead.”

“Also wrong.”

“But...” The angel gave Misha a look, and Misha changed track. “How did you know I was in trouble?”

Gabriel snorted. “Because I’m an _angel_.” He took another bite out of the chocolate bar. “Also, I follow you on twitter. Your last tweet was _‘aleys suck. Also, dying’._ A few people have replied correcting your spelling, but I’ll smite them later.”

Misha wondered if this was what a nervous breakdown was like. “Um.”

“Nervous breakdowns have less sex,” Gabriel told him.

Misha opened his mouth to ask, _Who said anything about sex?_ but then he closed it again. Angels were real, he’d died and then been brought back to life, surely some wild and crazy getting-a-grip-on-this-new-reality sex wasn’t completely out of line.

“That’s thinking right,” Gabriel told him.

“You look a lot like Richard,” Misha said. “But... not.”

Gabriel shrugged. “You don’t look that much like Cassie, except when you do.”

Misha considered that. If he were drunk, this conversation would make perfect sense. Gabriel finished off his chocolate bar, and then suddenly he was kneeling on the hard carpet between Misha’s knees.

“I like you,” he said, intensely serious. “I don’t bring people back to life if I don’t like them. Okay, a lot of the time their death is kind of my fault, but you’ll get used to that.” It occurred to Misha that there were a few implications in that sentence that he should be taking issue with, but the angel’s hands were under his t-shirt and sliding over his skin, and Gabriel’s mouth was on his, tasting like chocolate and coconut and not anything like blood or a dirty alleyway.

And, in all honesty, Misha had done dumber things.

So he threaded his fingers through Gabriel’s hair, intending to tilt the angel’s head back so he could lick deep into that hot mouth, chase away the taste of sugar. But Gabriel pressed forwards, pressed Misha down and onto the couch he’d woken up on, a knee between Misha’s legs and a thigh pressed hot and hard against Misha’s groin. Misha groaned, and pressed his hips forwards, grinding against Gabriel even as the angel pulled back to strip Misha’s shirt off, as he reached back to yank Misha’s boots and socks off.

“Can’t you just snap these things away?” Misha asked, grabbing Gabriel by the front of his shirt and dragging him back down for another kiss.

“Where’s the fun in that?” Gabriel replied against Misha’s lips, biting at them as he ran a hand over Misha’s chest, thumbing a nipple back and forth and idly watching the way Misha twisted beneath him. “You’re very bendy,” he observed.

“And you talk a lot,” Misha shot back, wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s neck and hauling him down so their bodies were flush together.

“That may have been mentioned to me in the past,” Gabriel admitted as he unbuckled Misha’s belt with one hand and then thumbed open his jeans. He slid his hand inside, and Misha arched up against him, pressing his harness against Gabriel’s palm and making a tight, desperate noise as Gabriel’s fingers wrapped around his length. “But I always make up for it.”

Misha stared up at the ceiling of his trailer as Gabriel stripped him of his final garments. He should be cold, given that it was Vancouver and he was naked and it was _always_ cold. But Gabriel was like a small furnace, and wherever his hands wandered over Misha’s skin, a trail of warmth sank down and settled over his bones. It was a nice feeling, Misha reflected, relaxing back into the softness of his couch. And then he felt Gabriel’s breath on his cock, and looked down at the angel just in time to see smirking lips wrap around his length, and slide down.

Misha threw his head back, gripping the cushions of his couch with both hands as Gabriel sucked at his cock, long, teasing slides up and down, with his tongue pressing hard against the little knot of nerves just under the head, pulling away altogether to lick and suck kisses against wet flesh, and to flick his tongue teasingly against the sensitive skin of Misha’s thighs as Misha writhed and moaned. He spread his legs wide, planting one foot on the floor with the intention of bucking his hips up and begging shamelessly until Gabriel finished him off. But then he felt Gabriel shift a hand forwards, stroking at the skin behind Misha’s balls, slipping playful fingers lower and further, pressing at Misha’s entrance with careful curiosity as Misha stilled, and held his breath.

He was disappointed when Gabriel pulled his fingers away, and opened his mouth – to complain or beg, he didn’t know – but only made a choked noise as Gabriel ducked his head down and licked a hot, wet stripe, pressing his tongue firmly against Misha’s hole.

“Oh sweet fucking-”

“If you bring my father into this, I’m leaving right now,” Gabriel warned.

Misha whined high in his throat. “ _Cupcakes_ ,” he finally ground out. “Fucking cupcakes that feels good.”

Gabriel gave Misha a considerate look. “I suppose that’s acceptable,” he said, before putting a hand at the back of Misha’s thigh, pressing his leg so one foot was hooked over the back of the couch, legs spread wide and Gabriel down between them, licking and sucking and biting gently at Misha’s ass cheeks and, yes, he did have a mouth that atoned for anything and everything he could ever possibly do.

And then Gabriel was licking at Misha’s cock again, and his fingers pressed against Misha’s slick hole and slid inside. Misha canted his hips, trying to find just the right angle even as Gabriel grabbed him with his free hand and held him still. Long, careful fingers filling him and stretching him, and feeling so good coupled with the way Gabriel idly mouthed at the head of Misha’s cock, sliding his lips down over the ridge of the head and then back up again, licking lazy stripes along the length.

Misha was shaking by the time Gabriel pulled his fingers free, feeling so good but nowhere near coming. He was relieved when he heard Gabriel unclasping his own belt, heard the noises of clothing against skin. He was even more relieved at how quickly the angel undressed, making soft, happy noises as he felt the skin of Gabriel’s vessel press against his own. Gabriel leaned over him, capturing his mouth in a deep, possessive kiss. He still tasted like chocolate, a detail that made Misha huff a laugh that stretched out and turned into a hiss as Gabriel pressed into him.

Misha gripped Gabriel’s shoulder, digging his fingernails in as the angel made one steady, slow press forwards. Holding Misha in position with hands at his hips and stretching him out, filling him up. He lifted his foot up off the floor and wrapped that leg around Gabriel’s waist, rolling his hips to press them that little bit closer. And, at the encouragement, Gabriel started to move.

It wasn’t the hardest ride of Misha’s life (that award went to his wife, their third anniversary, and it was _awesome_ ), but Gabriel wasn’t gentle. He thrust deep into Misha, setting a slow, steady pace that made Misha want to tear his hear out. When he looked up at Gabriel, the angel was smirking down at him, amused. Misha pulled a face at Gabriel, and used his foot up on the back of the couch as a leverage point, rolling his hips and fucking his body up against Gabriel’s cock, making the pace harder and messier. Gabriel stretched out over Misha once more, chuckling in his ear as he gave in to Misha’s demands. Their bodies met and moved together, making Misha hot and sweaty, their bodies slick where Gabriel reached between them and wrapped his hand around Misha’s cock, jerking him quickly and out of rhythm with the movements of their hips, with the press and drag of his own dick against that sweet spot inside Misha that he found over and over again.

Misha bit down on Gabriel’s shoulder as he came, coming hard and hot, his come smearing between their bodies as Gabriel made a tight, sharp moan, the first and only sign of him losing control as his hips snapped forward, and his body coiled tightly around Misha’s. There was a searing whiteness that Misha saw through closed eyes, and then Gabriel was coming, filling him up and fucking him out, and when Misha turned his head and caught Gabriel’s mouth with his own, he still tasted like chocolate.

And then their bodies slid apart. Misha lay limp and exhausted, his body tingling pleasantly enough that he could ignore the horrible mess that had been made of his couch. Gabriel settled in beside him, running his fingers through the cooling come on Misha’s stomach in a manner that Misha found completely irritating, until he looked down and noticed that the mess was gone, cleaned away by angel mojo and Gabriel’s tickling caresses.

“I have a wife,” Misha felt obliged to mention. He was aware that he should have mentioned that earlier, but she had been encouraging him to get out more for a while, and Gabriel probably knew that anyway.

Gabriel propped his head up on his hand, and looked down at Misha. “And now you have an angel.”

Misha was relatively confident he could handle that.


End file.
